


Uninhibited

by WrathoftheStag (Mwuahna)



Series: Giving Themselves [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Flirting, M/M, early stages of a relationship, pink floyd - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 19:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8069674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: Will gets baked and decides to call Hannibal to flirt.  Flirt?  I mean, I guess so.  Pot-induced shenanigans ensue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my Tumblr anon who submitted this fun prompt:  
>  _Like what if will graham just gets stoned at home for relaxing and just hits the bowl a bit too much that day at home and calls Hannibal stoned out of his mind and flirts just a tiny bit. Or like a lot, I've done this a lot, so I know it's possible._
> 
> * * *

_The first hit was always the best. Will took a long drag and held it, the tension leaving his body with each passing second during that slow exhale…_

**+++**

Tommy, the kid who lived down the road and walked the pack, was outside when Will pulled up the driveway from a nightmarish day at work. Would it be too much to ask to have just one day where he didn’t have to see any dead bodies? Apparently, it was.

“Oh hey, Mr. Graham,” Tommy exclaimed looking surprised to see Will there. “I thought you’d be home much later.”

“I was able to leave at a somewhat decent hour for once. Thank god for small favors.”

Tommy looked at Will with an odd smile, and appeared skittish as Will got nearer. Will was too tired to give a shit and as he reached for his wallet to pay Tommy, Tommy jumped back about a foot.

“Jesus, Tommy. Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry,” he replied. Will could swear the kid was practically shaking in his Doc Marten boots.

“Well, here’s $20 for this week and last. I think I still owe you $10,” Will mumbled as he handed Tommy some wrinkled bills.

Tommy grabbed the money and yelped, “Thanks, see you next time!” and in his mad dash to get out of there quickly, bumped right into Will knocking his keys and wallet out of his hand.

“Tommy!” Will growled with annoyance.

“Sorry!” and he made haste down the road.

Will watched Tommy disappeared into the early evening, and bent down to pick up his keys and wallet from the gravelly road. And what was right next to them? A joint. A perfectly rolled glorious looking joint.

“That little shit,” Will mumbled, realizing why Tommy hightailed it out of there.

A teenaged Will would have too, had he encountered his FBI agent neighbor while carrying a joint. Will smirked, and said to the dogs who were barking from inside the house watching him, “His loss is my gain.”

**+++**

Will was fairly certain this was as close as he would get to having pennies fall from heaven. After his terrible, awful, no good day, he could smoke a little pot, listen to some music, eat everything in his fridge, and just for this one evening forget how fucked up his life could be.

He pulled out a family-sized bag of potato chips from the pantry, rummaged through the back of the shelves and -- another miracle -- found a packet of dried onion soup mix. Now the $1,000 question was whether or not he would actually have sour cream in his refrigerator.

He walked over to the fridge, closed his eyes, and swung open the door. And there it sat, on the top shelf. Will took the sour cream and looked at the expiration date. Sure it was a bit long in the tooth, but it was already soured. How much more spoiled could it get? He shrugged and placed it on the counter.

There were so few bright spots in his life, that something as small as dip fixings seemed like the best thing in the world.

He turned on his CD player, began to hum along to Pink Floyd’s _The Dark Side of the Moon_ as he grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, and made the onion dip.

Winston stood nearby hoping for a treat and enjoying seeing his master happy -- even if it was momentarily.

“Yes, Winston. A little dip, some chips, a bit of pot. Sounds like a good Friday night to me, my friend.”

**+++**

The first hit was always the best. Will took a long drag and held it, the tension leaving his body with each passing second during that slow exhale.

Happily, he listened to the music.

 **_Breathe, breathe in the air._ **  
**_Don't be afraid to care._ ** **_Leave but don't leave me._ **  
**_Leave but don’t leave me.  
_****_Look around and choose your own ground._**

He was sprawled supine on the couch, the bowl of dip balancing on his tummy, the bag of chips at his side. Will took two quick puffs, and stared at the reflection of the porch light shining on the ceiling of the living room.

 **_Long you live and high you fly_ **  
**_And smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry_ **  
**_And all you touch and all you see_ **  
**_Is all your life will ever be._ **

Winston and Buster sat on the floor at the edge of couch, longingly hoping for a chip. Will took pity on them and tossed one to each.

After a couple of minutes, the chips tasted like the best thing in the universe. Second only perhaps to Hannibal’s cooking.

Hannibal’s cooking.

Hannibal.

“I wonder what Hannibal is doing right now?” Will asked Winston.

Winston’s eyebrows flew up as he heard the name Hannibal. The Nice Sausage Man was a favorite among the pack.

Will closed his eyes, and then began to feel himself not feel...and it was so pleasant. He kept smoking and eating, and eating and smoking, and soon he found himself licking the bowl of onion dip clean. When he realized what he was doing he snorted and began to laugh. “Get a grip, Will!”

He got up and walked over to the kitchen to pour himself a large glass of water; his mouth already feeling cottony dry.

He paused at the fridge and rummaged around, squealing with delight when he found some leftover enchiladas he made last week. The top layer of tortilla and cheese was hard and crusty, so he ripped it off and tossed it into the trash.

“He shoots, he scores!”

He grabbed a fork and made his way back to the couch, cold container of enchiladas on his lap. “I wonder what Hannibal is doing right now?” Will asked Winston once again, forgetting he had already wondered.

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

He took the stereo remote and lowered the volume, then pulled out his cellphone and pressed one on the speed dial. Just as he took an enormous forkful of enchilada, Hannibal answered.

“Will.”

Will’s eyes opened wide, and he began to laugh, trying to quickly chew and swallow the enchilada. Chucks of chicken flying out of his mouth.

“Shit, sorry,” he mumbled.

“Will?”

Will swallowed and then snorted, “Sorry!” He tried to regain as much composure as he could and then said, “Hey, hi. Oh hey, Haaaannibal.”

“Will, are you alright?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Will replied, the sound slipping off his tongue like oil sliding off a linguine. Oooo, linguine sounded _really_ good right about now.

“Well then, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Hannibal asked sounding genuinely curious.

“Oh, I’m just high and wondered what you were doing?” Will hadn’t meant to disclose that, but there it was.

“You’re high?”

Will laughed quietly, “Fuck...yeah, it would appear so.”

“Do you need help? Again, are you alright?”

“Actually, no. I mean, yes. I’m fine but also yes, I do need your assistance, Hannibal.”

“I can come over immediately.”

“Can you bake me a chocolate cake?” Will asked with a large smile slowly spreading across his face.

Hannibal leaned against his headboard, and smiled. Was this _actually_ happening? He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, over his reading glasses. It was 9:50 p.m. He had his finger holding the page in his book, but then put it down on the bed.

“I believe it’s too late to do any sort of baking, but perhaps next time?”

“Hmmm….next time,” Will cooed. He wasn’t sure exactly why he was cooing, fuck if he knew, but it felt like the right thing to do. “Cooing is nice,” he murmured as he put the container of enchiladas down.

“Pardon me?” Hannibal said with a soft chuckle. He quietly inhaled as he heard Will exhale on the other end of the line. What exactly was going on here?

Hannibal ran his hand slowly across the silky sheet on his bed. The coolness of the fabric feeling sensual against his skin. “Did you just say ‘cooing is nice?’”

Will took another hit of the joint, then laughed and said, “Coo coo ca choo.”

Hannibal smiled and shook his head, “I believe the actual line is goo goo g’joob, Will.”

“Shut up, you do not -- how do you...I mean, are you the walrus, Doctor?”

“Clearly I am the eggman, William.”

“Dude,” Will said as he smirked and gripped his cell phone tightly.

“Judging from your relaxed conversation, I’m betting you had some Indica rather than Sativa, Will.”

Will laughed, “The who and the what now? How the hell do you know any of this?”

“I know many things. For instance, I’m certain that right about now the cannabinoids in the marijuana are working with your neurons, making you believe you are ravenous when in fact you probably are not. So you see, you really don’t need a chocolate cake.”

“Yeah, I know you know about the _chemistry_ of it all, Doctor Lecter. I mean, how do you _know_ about pot?”

Hannibal’s smirk practically jumped through the phone, “Will, I am not a man of the clergy. I have actually experienced many things.”

“Have you now?” Will purred as his hand dipped into the bag of potato chips. Will crunched into a large chip and said, “Do tell…”

“Well, when I was at the boarding school a small group of us would sneak out into the courtyard every now and then and get high. And of course, university always provides one with plenty of opportunities.”

“Were you a big pot head in your youth?”

Hannibal laughed, “No, I wouldn’t go quite that far.”

“What were you like as a teenager?” Will asked. He had wondered many nights. Was a young Hannibal as proper and intense as the older version he’d come to know? He had so many questions for him, but never the nerve to ask them.

“I was quiet. Always observing, always. Often I felt as if I kept a tally on people and their offences. In many ways, I was like Mr. Darcy -- once my good opinion was lost, it was lost forever.”

Will smiled, “Fitzhannibal Darcy.”

“Indeed!” Hannibal chuckled, and then said, “It was difficult for me to open up to people, much less trust them -- but in order to move forward in life, I had to learn to work with people. It wasn’t so much that I had to like everyone, but I did have to learn how to work with everyone.”

“I didn’t like anyone, _and_ never quite learned how to work with anyone either. Perfect, right?” Will laughed.

“You’re fine with me.”

“Ha! After I practically bit your head off the first few times our paths crossed.”

“Yes,” Hannibal teased. “I wouldn’t like you when you’re psychoanalyzed.”

“But now, it’s different...with you.” A pause and then, “We’re friends, right?”

“Of course, Will.”

Will put the bag of chips down, then rubbed the armrest of the couch with his toe and asked quietly, “What’s the craziest thing you did while high? My friend.”

Hannibal bit his lower lip, as he smiled, the intonation in Will’s voice was unmistakable. There was a certain raw softness to it.

“Well,” Hannibal said wondering what Will would do with this volley, “I went skinny dipping.”

Will looked up at the ceiling, inhaling deeply, then draped his right arm over both his eyes in an attempt to hide from his own brazenness as he replied, “I bet you looked...nice.”

Hannibal’s cock twitched instinctively. When it came to Will Graham, Hannibal always functioned on instinct. This had the potential to prove hazardous.

“Everyone is lovely in their youth,” he replied, breath hitching slightly

Will lifted his arm, letting his forearm rest on his hairline. He chewed the inside of his mouth then said, “I bet you were beautiful...still are.”

Hannibal’s eyebrow raised and then he said, “Does pot always make you uninhibited, Will? Is this the high speaking, or you?” Hannibal touched his tongue to the bow of his upper lip, waiting for Will’s response.

Will wasn’t sure what the answer to that was. And if he knew, was he ready to hear it? He was feeling too relaxed and happy though to really give a damn about consequences or protocol at the moment. Hannibal was one of those bright spots in his life. He felt safe and taken care of whenever he was with Hannibal. Hannibal was his paddle. Why shouldn’t he wade over to him?

“Me.”

“What am I supposed to make of this?”

“I don’t know,” Will replied, as his skin began to prickle.

“What do _you_ make of this?”

“Why are you trying to analyze me, Hannibal?”

“I apologize.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I don’t?”

Will held his breath for a moment, then released it in a puff of warm air, and barely whispered, “No.”

The line was silent for a moment, until Hannibal replied slowly, voice sounding thick and sweet, “What’s to be done about that?”

The only sound then was the breathing of both men. Each remaining wordless, rendered mute by the powers of the “what if.” Outside Will’s window, the crickets’ chirping went unnoticed.

“Chocolate cake?” Will replied, regretting the words the instant they escaped.

Hannibal sighed and chuckled softly, “Perhaps another day.”

The moment lay there dead on arrival, as Will cursed himself. He wasn’t too high to realize he had fucked up. The moment had passed and was now gone. And while Will was busy thinking to himself what his witty comeback could be to try and get that feeling back, Hannibal chimed in.

“Well, make sure you drink plenty of water. I’m sure you’re going to have a terribly dry mouth later. Especially with all of those salty snacks I could hear you crunching on.”

Will sighed and then added, trying to sound jovial, “Whatever the doctor orders.”

Hannibal closed his eyes tightly, and covered the receiver, as he tried to decide what his next move should be. Then he thought it was probably best if his next move was no move at all.

“Indeed. Good night, Will.”

Will gripped the phone tightly, silent for a few moments. “Good night, Hannibal.”

In an instant, the line went dead. The crickets chirped loudly throughout the rest of the evening.

**Author's Note:**

> [Classic onion soup dip](http://www.makinglifebetter.com/recipes/detail/28542/1/classic-onion-dip) mix recipe -- for those who may not be familiar with it. It's basically MSG with sour cream.


End file.
